


Ripple

by loonanders



Series: The Ruins As They Were [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonanders/pseuds/loonanders
Summary: A name is an identity, a testament to one's being. To Raveena and Cyriel, it's nothing more than the sound a droplet makes before it disappears into the water.Based on the character questions sent by @nyxxbx.
Series: The Ruins As They Were [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086890





	Ripple

Here it comes.

“Lady Raveena Blackbyrne, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Champion of Redcliffe, Commander of the Grey and Hero of Ferelden.”

Despite all the composure the guests in attendance forced themselves to keep, a wave of murmurs washed over the ballroom. A reaction that was all too expected after the Warden-Commander’s prolonged absence and everything that happened at Adamant, but what better occasion than Halamshiral to make the grand reveal? Not even the Inquisition could pretend to have known. Only a select few members were aware of her identity and although Raveena didn’t turn her head from Empress Celene, she could have sworn she’d seen Blackwall’s jaw drop. It was difficult not to smirk proudly at the stir her simple presence caused.

The announcer spoke up again. All he had to do was open his mouth for silence to befall the room, nobles practically holding their breath over the faint orchestra music to find out who the tall, elegant black-haired man and the peppy-looking elf girl at his arm were.

“Lord Enor Mussdyck and Lady Mai Bhalsych of Korse.”

Cyriel barely held back a snort and gave Sera a terribly unsubtle glance, caring nothing for the outrage the nobles already whispered among themselves–for he knew he’d charm his way into their pants anyway.

Unlike his sister, Cyriel had no titles to flaunt and no identity to hide. He went wherever the wind took him and disappeared just as fast. No one ever knew how to follow him or where to find him, for he left nothing behind him. No name he ever gave was truly his.

For all of her titles, Raveena was the same. Their names were more like armor than skin, to be used, taken off and discarded as was needed. There wasn’t one they were born with–not one that could be pronounced, at least.

After all, they were there before names were necessary, before words came to be.

“You don’t care what they call you,” Cole had once told Raveena. A guest had addressed her with the wrong title, but she wouldn’t let Josephine correct him. “Glory in battles and lives changed, but I don’t need them to speak it. I am more than my name.”

“You do know my real name though, don’t you?” She was smiling, her trust in Cole shining through. He wouldn’t say it out loud. He couldn’t, though he would try as best as he could.

“Yes.” He paused for a moment and Raveena closed her eyes like she was ready to get lost in the picture his words were about to paint. “Like being hugged by water. Light and tranquil, the river raises them up, free of all weights. It’s been here forever, flowing, seeping into the earth and running through its veins, bearing life and cleansing sin. Always it remains, undisturbed by the steps which tread it, pristine and eternal, not even tainted by the blood it washes away.”

She smiled, her lips forming a waning crescent, face moonlit with wistful pride.

There was a time when they were little more than that feeling, but it was enough then. Those who listened were changed, graced with truth and clarity. To those, the world seemed a little less scary and chaotic and their existence was no longer a battle to be fought, but a life to be lived. They gave them names in a desperate attempt to make sense of their being, like they did with everything whose nature they did not understand but knew they could not live without.

It is not known who stopped listening first. But with that, the people stopped speaking until the names they held for them died with them. All that remains are forgotten hieroglyphs, epitaphs etched in stone long crumbled–for if anything survived, they struck it down themselves.

For a while, there was nothing but the quiet and stillness they had resolved to dwell in. No names made them nobody but they were always _something_ , So they chose their own names, drew themselves out of the shadows to be drowned out by the light. Whatever they were called, so were thousands of others. Bryce or Florus, Sophia, Elaine. A name for each place they went, each person they met. A name for every life they lived and every feeling they held, the syllables were remembered and cherished, whispered in their ears with gentle fondness.

As true as that might have been, they were nothing more than masks adopted in passing. No real name, no need for one. It won’t be remembered anyway. They weren’t meant to.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally never proofread my stuff but I hope you like it anyway <3


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